


Devotion

by moonside



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aftercare, Dom/sub, Edging, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Promptis - Freeform, Sex Toys, Sounding, Subspace, facesitting, self-indulgent dirty porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 10:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonside/pseuds/moonside
Summary: Prompto has terrible self-control, except when he’s being commanded by his king. Then, somehow, he always finds the inner resolve.He’s such a fucking good plaything for King Noctis, it’s absurd. Noct’s pretty sure Prompto was made for this goddamn role.





	Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> pls read the tags, this fic is self-indulgent with my weird kink, kthx. <3  
> there's no plot here, only promptis trash.  
> THIS IS BASED ON THE VERSE AU CANON BTW. <3

There’s some benefits to being king, really.

 

Noct’s somehow grown into the role. He’s not sure how he did, if he’s being honest with himself, but here he is. He’s learned to carry himself like a king, shoulders straight, chin up, a certain dominating command to his voice that he’d never really had as a kid. His hair’s longer, streaked with the faintest hints of grey at his temples, beard trimmed, but a little patchy. Still, it’s a good look, or so everyone keeps telling him.

 

He looks like his dad, but whatever. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

 

There _are_ benefits to being king. Right now, Noct’s perched on the edge of the big, fancy bed tucked away in the royal quarter of the citadel. They’ve fixed it up all nice for him. Noctis had worried, in the beginning, that it’d be lonely, that being king is just another thing he has to face alone. Prompto, though, had fallen at his side again, almost immediately, and it’s like the ten years never happened.

 

And maybe, Noctis should’ve been kinglier here, but this is what he’s always quietly wanted, isn’t it? As a kid, they’d whispered about ending up together, even though they knew they _couldn’t._ Prompto’s always been nothing but entirely dedicated to Noctis, overeager and endearing and so happy to please. Noct’s always appreciated it, and when he was younger, there was definitely an appeal to it, but now?

 

Now, as _king?_ Noct’s grown to fully enjoy everything that his best friend, his goddamn _consort,_ has to offer.

 

“Doing okay, Prom?” Noct’s voice is quiet, his head tipped to the side, as he strokes the pads of his fingers feather-light along the bare skin of Prompto’s inner thigh.

 

Prompto trembles a little in response, and nods. His eyes are wide, already blissed out and needy, and it’s maybe the hottest thing Noct’s seen in a while. At least, since the last time they did this.

 

“Y-yeah,” Prompto agrees, and there’s only a slight quiver to his voice before he steadies himself, regains a bit of composure with a deep, shuddering breath. There’s a pause, one where Noctis considers his next move, but Prompto’s quick to correct himself, with another heavy breath, and a quietly uttered, “your Majesty.”

 

Fuck. When Prompto calls him that, in that tone of voice?

 

It does things to Noctis. Terrible, horrible, _amazing_ things. Noct nearly shudders, and he shifts, his free hand sliding down to palm the heavy bulge in the front of his pants. He’s half-hard, his cock straining against the fabric, eager to be freed. Noctis, though, is a goddamn king. He’s used to getting his way, but somehow, _somewhere,_ he’s learned some patience. Maybe it’s from sleeping for ten damn years in a crystal, or maybe he’s just his father’s son, at the end of the day. Whatever it is, it’s paying off.

 

Prompto’s fully naked, and he looks _fantastic._ He’s lying on his back, legs parted, thighs trembling. There’s a pillow propped up underneath the base of his spine, lifting his ass up into the air, and Noct’s eyes greedily take in the sight. His belly’s tight, abdomen clenched, muscles quivering when Noct’s fingers move over them, tracing the lines of his toned abs, drifting over the jut of hipbone, down along the curve of pelvis.

 

“You gonna be good?” Noctis asks. His fingers are slow, lazy, but purposeful, as they ghost over Prompto’s achingly hard cock, resting full and flush and red against his belly.

 

Prompto _almost_ says something in response, but he catches himself. Instead, he simply makes a low, needy sound in the back of his throat, his hips trying to rock up, nearly lifting, before he manages to still them.

 

“Y-yes,” Prompto says, and Noct’s _proud,_ in a strange way, that he can even form coherent words still. “Majesty, _please,_ I wanna be good for you.”

 

Prompto always wants to be good for him, and it always sends a heated surge of pride right through Noct’s chest. It settles in all the right places, and fuck, his cock swells a little more at the thought. Maybe it’s too possessive. Maybe Noct should really sit back here and _think_ about all of this. But Prompto’s dedicated to him, so eager to please, and they both, really, get off on this.

 

It’s obvious, at least, that Prompto’s getting off on this. His erection’s full, flushed so angry red against his belly, a thick bead of precome leaking from the tip. There sticky streaks of precome lining his belly, too, and enough of it slick along his aching length that there isn’t any need for lubricant.

 

Noct’s been edging him for a while now. Prompto’s not quite a desperate, incoherent mess, not yet, and that’s a _problem,_ a serious one that Noctis most certainly intends to rectify.

 

Noctis? He’s fully clothed, and that’s half the point. Prompto’s all trembling muscle and freckled skin, though, and his hips lift further as Noct’s forefinger traces the heavy vein running along the underside of his cock. It twitches and smears another strand of precome from the contact, and Prompto worries at his lower lip, making a sinful sound that really should be outright illegal.

 

“You wanna come?” Noct asks, casually, his voice absolutely dripping _command_ in a lazy sort of way.

 

Prompto whines, and his hips jerk violently, as Noct’s fingers drift further, brushing over the base of his cock, dipping down to cup his balls and roll the oversensitive sacs between his fingers.

 

It’s a trick question. They both know it.

 

“N-not yet,” Prompto gasps, wracked with a full-bodied shiver that sends fire burning through Noct’s body, “fuck, _please,_ majesty, only when you want me to—”

 

Prompto’s still saying way too much. Noct loves it, but he hates it, at the same time.

 

“You’re so good for me,” Noct encourages, and the praise goes right between Prompto’s thighs. His eyes darken and narrow, and the breath catches in his throat. It’s hot to watch the bob of his throat, the way his cheeks flush even deeper, hiding the swirls of freckles. He’s got both hands over his head, and he’s not restrained, which makes it even _better,_ because Noct’s told him not to move them. It’s entirely self-control. Prompto has _terrible_ self-control, except when he’s being commanded by his king. _Then,_ somehow, he always finds the inner resolve.

 

He’s such a fucking good plaything for King Noctis, it’s absurd. Noct’s pretty sure Prompto was _made_ for this goddamn role.

 

Noct’s eyes are locked onto Prompto’s, but his fingers aren’t still. His hand’s shifting, giving his balls a rough squeeze – earning another desperate sound – and then trailing over his trembling, sensitive inner thighs. They’re slick with sweat and smears of precome and lube, and even _that_ is fucking hot. Prompto’s a hot mess, and that’s just the way Noctis likes him.

 

“ _So good,”_ Noctis breathes, in a dark tone, and Prompto’s whole body seizes up again. His thighs spread wider, further apart, so much it has to burn his tense muscles. He likes the burn. Noctis learned that pretty fucking fast. Prompto _likes_ the pain, the hurt, the way it cuts straight through him. It’s hardwired to his cock, at this point, and it’s hot as all hell. They’re best friends, yeah, and lovers after that, but Prompto’s always finding new ways to surprise Noctis.

 

Prompto doesn’t respond, not with words, but their eyes burn into each other. Prompto’s are wet around the edges, needy tears streaking down his cheeks, wide and blown out, desperate for more. His hair’s a fucking mess, framing his face in thick, messy spikes, matted in the back from throwing his head back against the pillow. His hips are trying to rock up as Noct’s fingers slip between the cleft of his ass, teasing and playing over his slightly stretched rim.

 

“You wanna be fucked all wide and open,” Noctis says, and the words are casual, conversational. There’s such a stark switch that comes over Noctis, when they’re messing around like this. Yeah, he’s thirty now, and he’s a fucking _king._ He knows how to carry himself with grace and dignity and power. Noctis is still quiet though, a little shy—until he’s got Prompto like this, under his command. Like this? There’s a switch inside of Noct, and he gets off on it, saying lewd, dirty shit. Prompto loves it, too, and his hips are lifting, his ass pressing against the fingers teasing him.

 

“Yeah, _please,”_ Prompto shudders, “wanna feel it, want my king’s cock—”

 

Noctis laughs, because Prompto’s words are cut off, as two fingers press inside. Prompto’s already sloppy with lube, and that hadn’t even been _his_ doing. He’d come back to this, to Prompto naked, lounging in their bed, eyes dark and inviting, fingers still slick with lube from where he’d fingered himself. Only two though—Prompto likes being pushed, and he likes the burn.

 

Noctis adds a third finger, and then a fourth, and it has to hurt, the way Prompto’s rim is all stretched and puffy and red, but he’s gasping, his arms still over his head, fingers gripping at the headboard so rough his knuckles are turning white.

 

“Don’t even think about it,” Noct warns, and he doesn’t need to specify _what,_ because he’s crooking his fingers up into Prompto’s prostate, full-on pressure that suddenly has Prompto gasping and writhing, thighs tensing, whole body lifting. His cock jumps violently on his tummy, and it takes every fucking ounce of his self-control, Noct can tell, to keep himself from coming in a wet mess all over his belly.

 

“Noct—!” Prompto’s voice is loud, needy, and his ass is clenching down, gripping tight around the four fingers stretching him wide. Precome oozes from the swollen, red head of his cock, and Noct gives in to the urge to lean down, bending at the waist to drag his tongue over the oozing slit, lapping the sticky mess away.

 

“I’m not Noct,” Noctis murmurs, though, even as he’s tipping his head, dragging a scruffy, bearded cheek over the oversensitive head of Prompto’s cock. “I’m your _king.”_ He gets a sob in response, twists his fingers in deeper, another stab against Prompto’s prostate, and that’s _too_ much.

 

Prompto can’t handle it, and suddenly, his hips are jerking, he’s rutting his cock into Noct’s cheek, his whole ass clenching around the fingers fucking into him, rubbing his prostate, and he’s coming _hard._ It makes a mess, spurting all over Noct’s cheek, getting caught in his beard, some smearing in his hair, and Prompto gasps and sobs through it all, whole body shaky with wracking tremors.

 

“Fuck, _fuck,_ majesty, I’m sorry, I’m _sosorry,”_ Prompto half-screams, half-whines through it all, desperate and blissed, and realizing, quite suddenly, that he’s _disobeyed._ Of course, that just contributes to the pure euphoria rushing through his veins, and he’s just coming harder, riding out the waves as Noctis milks him, fingers twisting and grinding into his prostate until he’s too sensitive, until it _hurts,_ and he’s writhing and trying to wrench away from Noct’s fingers.

 

Noctis doesn’t pull away until Prompto’s fully hard again, until there’s a thick pool of semen smeared over his abdomen and running down the side of his cock. There’s a _lot,_ mess smeared over his face, and fuck, that’s just what happens when he’s been keeping him on the edge for a fucking hour.

 

“And here I was calling you _good,”_ Noct laughs quietly, when he finally lifts his head. He reaches for Prompto’s shirt, lazily discarded and tossed aside long ago, and wipes at his face. “Pretty rude. Coming without being told to, _and_ all over my face. What am I gonna do with you, Prom?”  


Prompto whimpers his response. He’s already all worked up again, barely offered _any_ real release because Noct’s working him so hard and fast, pulling his body into overdrive. He’s eager for praise, too, and his cheeks are burning bright with humiliation, knowing that he got off without permission.

 

Fuck, Noct can’t help it, and he runs a hand over the bulge in his pants, biting his lip as he stares Prompto down.

 

“S-should punish me, majesty,” Prompto manages, thickly, and it takes a few moments to compose himself enough to get the words out coherently. He’s lifting his hips up again, offering his ass, thighs parted, hole shimmering with lube and gaping, pink and open, from the four fingers he’s just taken. It looks good, but Noct’s got other ideas. He playfully smacks Prompto’s thigh, and when Prompto _jumps_ in response, his cock throbbing where it lays heavily against his belly, Noct’s eyes narrow.

  
Prompto _likes_ pain. It’s so fucking hot.

 

“You’re such a slut for me,” Noct says, still in that same, casual tone, and this time, he smacks Prompto’s sensitive inner thigh again, _hard,_ enough that there’s a crack of skin hitting skin and an explosion of warmth over Noct’s palm. Prompto hisses, and his hips jerk, and he almost draws his thighs together. He doesn’t, though, and instead he tilts his head up, chin tipping in Noct’s direction, big dolloping tears streaking down his cheeks as he catches Noct’s gaze.

 

“ _Ah –_ only for you, _please,_ I deserve it,” Prompto whines, and Noct’s hand cracks again, hitting the same spot, pink skin blossoming into the most beautiful red. Prompto’s got nice thighs, too. He’d been a runner in high school, and _then,_ apparently, that hadn’t changed over the ten years Noct’s gone. Now that the light’s restored and they’ve gotten horrendously domestic, he’s picked up old habits, sneaking out of the citadel on early mornings to get his daily run in.

 

Noct’s fingers dance over Prompto’s inner thigh, working inward to tug at his balls, hard enough that it’s not entirely pleasant. It earns him yet _another_ needy sound. Prompto’s loud, and he’s eager, and he’s slipping, very fast, into that perfect subservient space that Noct’s come to know so well.

 

“You wanna be punished?” Noctis asks, in a voice that’s almost cold, clinical. The gears are shifting, and things are falling into place. As much as Prompto loves to serve, to obey his king, Noctis likes to play with everything Prompto has to offer. He likes to dominate. After, he likes putting the pieces back together, to hold him and cherish him—but that’s _after._ Right now, they’re having fun.

 

“Yes,” Prompto replies, instantly, in a needy sort of babble, “please, majesty, my _king,_ show me.”

 

Noct’s so hard in his pants, he’s aching. There’s a damp wet spot where the swollen head is rubbing against the fabric, soaked right through. He’s got half an urge to fuck Prompto into oblivion, to find his release. But more than that, he wants to take this further. He wants to be _fully_ in charge.

 

So, instead, Noctis palms over the front of his pants again as he slowly slides off the bed. “Don’t touch yourself,” he tells Prompto, his voice harsh, commanding, “and keep your arms over your head.” Prompto nods shakily, and Noct knows that he will.

 

Prompto is so fucking good for him.

 

The royal quarters of the citadel _probably_ weren’t intended for acts of such debauchery, but they’ve managed to come up with quite a _collection_ since they’d ended up falling into bed together upon Noct’s return. They’d been adventurous as kids, and now that Noct’s an actual king, crackling magic and darkness sparking in the back of his mind, it’s gotten _far_ more interesting. It helps, too, that restoring light to a dying world makes people really, _really_ want to fuck, so it’s not hard to find fun stuff to mess around with.

 

Noctis rummages through some drawers, and when he returns with his poison of choice, Prompto’s eyes are wide as they stare Noct down, shifting from the objects he’s holding, flickering up to meet his eyes, then back down again.

 

“Colour?” Noct asks, as he crawls back onto the bed. He’s shifting, setting the goods aside, until he’s on his knees next to Prompto’s head. A strong hand cups at Prompto’s chin, tilting his head, forcing their eyes together.

 

Prompto shifts, a little uncomfortably, as Noctis stares him down.

 

“Green,” he murmurs, though, a bit demurely, flush spreading across his cheeks. “Fuck, I-I can handle it, you don’t need to ask, y’know!”

 

Noctis forgives the little break in character, because Prompto _always_ gets annoyed when he asks about limits. Prompto doesn’t think he has limits. Noctis knows better, even when he’s in that fully dominant state of mind, even when he’s drawing things out, pushing boundaries, he _knows_ that one of these days, they’ll find out just how much Prompto can take.

 

“You saw what we’re using today,” Noct replies, instead, reaching for the extra pillow, propping it up under Prompto’s head. His other hand’s splayed over Prompto’s belly, smearing slick around, his skin coated in a mixture of sweat and precome.

 

“Y-yes, majesty,” Prompto agrees, “please. I deserve it.”

 

Yeah, Noctis agrees quietly, Prompto _does_ deserve it. He doesn’t voice it though, simply traces two fingers along the bumps and curves of Prompto’s abs, down along the sharp line of his pelvis, and then back, over the thick length of his cock.

 

“Came without being told,” Noct lectures lazily, the very tip of a finger tracing the thick vein from base to tip and back again. Prompto writhes a little under the torturous touch, but he doesn’t say anything. He knows better.

 

“Maybe if we plug you up, you won’t do it again,” Noct murmurs, and even though Prompto doesn’t _say_ anything, the noise that comes out is pure, overcharged sexual energy. His whole body jerks, and his cock throbs angrily, a thick bead of precome oozing from the slit, running down the side. It’s hot as fuck, and Noctis swears, before this is over, _he’ll_ be the one coming in his pants, untouched.

 

Prompto’s staring him down, and Noct can tell he’s slipping, that he’s falling into subspace, his eyes pleading, desperate.

 

“You can talk,” Noct murmurs the command, because he knows what Prompto’s waiting for.

 

“ _Please,”_ Prompto gasps out, and even that’s hard, because now the very tip of Noct’s forefinger is tracing the head of his cock, running feather-light underneath the ridge of it, teasing a particularly sensitive spot where crown meets shaft. Noct _knows_ what’s going to drive Prompto crazy, and he’s relentless.

 

“Please _what?”_ Noct murmurs, playing dumb, and now his other hand’s shifting, sliding up Prompto’s stomach, ghosting over his ribs, until clever fingers are circling his nipple, teasing it into an erect bud.

 

Prompto’s sensitive there, too, and he doesn’t know whether to squirm and rock his hips, eager for some actual friction there, or if he should simply arch his chest up into the teasing touch. His cock’s so hot, burning up, and even though he just came, it wasn’t enough, and Noctis? He’s going to draw this out as long as he can.

 

“Please— _ah—_ fill me,” Prompto manages, and his eyes are all wide, blissed out and glossy when Noctis runs his fingers over the tip of his erection, a finger digging into the slit and smearing around the precome that’s still oozing out.

 

Prompto _loves_ being stuffed wide. He can be a size queen, and Noct knows just how to do it.

 

Noct pulls his hands away, and Prompto whines at the loss, even though he _knows_ what’s coming. His head tips to the side, just a little, watching silently as Noct reaches for the bottle of lube. There’s the sound of the cap unfastening, and then Noct’s slicking up a thick, heavy silicone plug with lube. It’s a massive thing, weighing down his hand, ridiculously thick in the middle, tapering out, with a thick, flared base. It’s bigger than his four fingers, and Prompto’s eyeing the damn thing greedily, eager to take it.

 

Fuck, Prompto really _is_ eager for it, because his hips are lifting up as Noct leans in, as he gets the thick, blunt tip of the toy pressed up against his already stretched rim. There’s only a bit of resistance, and then Prompto’s expression is shifting, from pain to pleasure, blissed out on the burning stretch. It’s a nice sight to watch, too, Noct’s head tipped and his eyes narrowed as Prompto’s ass spreads wide around the girth of the toy, slipping in as his body relaxes and adjusts around it.

 

Noct twists the toy, once it’s inside, once there’s nothing but the wide base pressed tight against the cleft of Prompto’s ass. He knows just how to shift it, and Prompto’s gasping out, rocking down against the dull pressure splitting him open, with that bit of friction against the sensitive nerves inside him.

 

“Better?” Noct teases, once he’s satisfied, and he leaves the plug buried inside, both hands shifting now to knead at Prompto’s inner thighs, thumbs rough as they press into his skin hard enough to leave delicious red marks in their wake.

 

Prompto nods, frantically, and Noct has half a mind to _tell_ him to speak. But his eyes are all wide, and he’s wriggling his thighs, trying to shift the toy within him, and Noct can tell that he’s gone, dropping deeper into that submissive role, into that subservient place where it’s just pain and pleasure mingling together, chasing away everything else.

 

Noct pulls his hands away – with another light smack against Prompto’s thigh, drawing out yet another needy sound – and reaches down again, instead, fingers closing around the next toy he’s got in mind.

 

Well, _toy_ isn’t really the correct word.

 

“Prom,” Noct says, and some of the harshness falls away from his voice. He’s a good king. He’s a good lover, too, and even though they _both_ get off on this, on the game, the act of it, the play, underneath it all? Noctis wants to take care of Prompto.

 

Prompto’s eyes focus on him, and he breathes in a harsh breath, whole body quivering with the effort of it. He doesn’t say anything, but his gaze burns into Noct’s, sparks practically tangible in the air between them. He’s still got his arms over his head, fingers flexing as they grip at the headboard, whole body flushed and gorgeous and naked, on display.

 

“You’re okay?” Noct says, and he hesitates, just for a moment, watching. There’s none of that hesitation on Prompto’s side, though, the blonde nodding immediately, even if he doesn’t quite have the words to express it.

 

Noctis knows Prompto well, though. He doesn’t force the words—Prompto’s slipping deeper, falling fast into oblivion, and it’s so fucking hot, the kind of power rush it gives Noctis. It shouldn’t feel this _good,_ being in charge, in command, but it does, damnit. There’s trust between them, so much of it, and Noct loves it. He loves _Prompto,_ damnit, and everything that runs under the surface between them.

 

Prompto visibly shivers when Noctis holds up a thin, metal rod, with a narrow little curve at one end. It’s thick, with a nice weight to it. Noct lifts it up, putting on a little bit of a show, letting the smooth metal roll between his fingertips.

 

“Stay still,” Noct commands, his voice taking on some of that sharpness again. Prompto trembles, but only once, and then he nods, his body stilling. He’s always so eager to please, after all. His eyes are burning, though, locking onto Noct’s, and then flicking down, watching as Noct scoots closer.

 

Prompto really is _so good,_ barely even shuddering when Noct’s free hand moves to his cock. He trails two fingers up the wet underside, taking his sweet time, enjoying the quiet, needy moan that escapes. Prompto’s thighs tremble a little, but he’s staying still, biting at his lower lip, all full of need.

 

Noctis loves it when Prompto looks like this. He’s hyper-focused, breathing heavily as Noct’s fingers tease the swollen head of his cock. A finger dips into the slit, gathering up precome, and Prompto makes a sound that really should be fucking illegal, it’s so good.

 

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much,” Noct murmurs, and Prompto offers up a tiny nod, but otherwise, he’s lost. There’s too much lube drizzled between them, slicking up the sound, dripping down over Prompto’s cock, and then the wide, curved tip is pressing against his cockhead.

 

Prompto’s eyes do this amazing thing, when he slips deep, when he’s lost to everything but Noctis touching him, _owning_ him. They gloss over, darkening and shifting, screaming for _more_ without Prompto actually saying anything at all. Right now, he’s giving him that look, and fuck, Noctis almost can’t handle it. His fingers are steady though, one hand gripping Prompto’s erection, holding the head of his cock wide and open as he slides the narrow metal rod down his shaft, splitting his slit open. The lube makes it easy, even though it’s big, _so big,_ and it’s got to burn and ache in a way that isn’t entirely pleasure. Prompto likes it though, he gets off on being controlled, on being filled like this, on it _hurting._

 

Prompto’s hands are shifting, gripping at the edge of the pillow now, his mouth hanging open, breath heavy, mouthing soundless words that he can’t quite get out coherently. His cock’s still achingly hard, even with Noctis splitting it open, working the sound down until the curved end is hooking right into his prostate. He knows he’s hit it, too, because there’s a sharp, sudden tremor wracking through Prompto, thighs tensing and stomach clenching.

 

“F-fuck--!” Prompto manages to say, _somehow,_ when Noct’s fingers play over the end of the sound. It’s got a wide, rounded tip, and it looks _good,_ sticking out of the tip of Prompto’s erection. It’s almost like a piercing—and that’s another nice thought, because Prompto would look good with a cock piercing. That’s a discussion for another time, though.

 

“Okay?” Noctis asks. He doesn’t need to ask, though, because Prompto’s still achingly hard, and he’s rocking his hips up now. His cock is throbbing, painfully hard, the head swollen. Noct’s fingers are gently nudging into the tip of the sound, pushing it just a bit deeper, putting more pressure into his prostate; it’s an unfair move, really, because Prompto’s words die on his lips, another needy moan coming instead. Blonde hair’s falling over Prompto’s face, all sweaty and matted, but he has the presence of mind to nod again, and that’s all the encouragement Noct needs.

 

It feels amazing. Noctis knows it does, because the heavy, thick plug is still working Prompto’s ass open, pressing into his prostate from behind. The sound’s working against him from the front, and it’s a miracle he hasn’t come already, just from this bit of stimulation. It’s entirely because Noctis hasn’t _told_ him he can, too, and that’s a surge of power that Noct’s absolutely getting off on.

 

When Noct slides the sound out a little, Prompto keens. His cock jumps, and the metal’s slick with lube and precome. His slit already looks swollen and painful, worked open around the girth of the rod, but if Prompto wants him to stop, he’s not voicing it. Noct _knows_ he can handle it, though. His fingers shift, gripping almost too-tight at the base of Prompto’s cock, holding him still, as he inches the sound out a little more, before pressing it back in, getting the curved end pressed into that sweet spot, the one that has Prompto gasping again as he’s filled.

 

Minutes tick by of this, and Noct’s never felt as heated as he does right now. Edging Prompto is always so nice, the blonde becoming increasingly needy. His balls are heavy, when Noct’s fingers drift down to tease them and roll them in his fingers. They’re drawn up tight, and still so full, even though he’s already made a damn mess of himself. His cock’s electric, hot to the touch, split open around the sound worked deep into his slit. Occasionally, Noct’s fingers work further down, pressing teasingly into Prompto perineum – earning him another desperate sound – before curling around the base of the plug, twisting it and pressing more dull pressure directly into his prostate.

 

Prompto’s whole face is flushed, and there’s sweat beading on his skin. His hair’s matted, and his eyes are needy, and he can’t stop trembling, his hips lifting up with each touch. It’s hard to come, being plugged up so thoroughly, and Noct’s told him, more than once, “no, don’t you dare,” and right now? Prompto’s so fucking desperate to please him, that he _listens._

He’s right on the edge, so close that Noct really doesn’t know if Prompto _can_ hold back anymore, when he draws his hand away. The sound’s still inside, the rounded tip looking quite nice as it adorns the swollen head of Prompto’s cock. Prompto makes another of those amazing needy noises, and Noct’s own erection is so hard, he’s amazed he hasn’t made a mess of himself.

 

“Don’t,” Noct says, voice harsh, and Prompto does his best to still his desperate shifting, though he can’t quell the violent tremble of his thighs, or the way his hips are rocking up, then back down against the plug in his ass. There’s the sound of skin slapping, as Noct playfully smacks Prompto’s thigh again, and another surge of heat with the sound he’s rewarded with. Then, Noct’s rising up onto his knees, giving Prompto a bit of a show as he finally – _fucking finally –_ unbuttons his pants, sliding them down his hips, underwear following rather unceremoniously. There’s a bit of an urge to put on a show, but Noct’s painfully hard, his cock springing free, pressing heavily against his belly when it’s freed.

 

Prompto’s eyes follow, anyway, and he licks his lips as Noct slides a hand down, offering an exaggerated sigh and a roll of his hips as he strokes himself. His cock throbs and his fingers come back sticky with precome as he rubs them over the swollen tip. Noct can _never_ resist Prompto, not when he’s so subservient and good, being tortured and worked open in so many ways.

 

“You want this?” Noct murmurs, back arching, hips jutting, as he runs his fingers over his cock, curling them around the base, jerking himself with a slow, steady stroke. Prompto’s eyes are burning into him, watching desperately, his own hips lifting to mimic the action, and he nods. That’s the only encouragement Noctis needs, and then he’s shifting, kicking his pants off fully, and moving to straddle Prompto’s chest.

 

“Stay still. Don’t want to hurt yourself,” Noct commands, as his fingers fist into Prompto’s hair, tugging his face up and close. Prompto doesn’t reply, but his mouth opens and his tongue darts out to greedily slide over the underside of Noct’s cock, tracing the vein, sliding along the ridge of the head, eager and needy, those goddamn _eyes_ absolutely brimming with desire.

 

Prompto’s good at so many things. Being submissive and _perfect,_ letting Noct fill him up and play with him as he needs, yeah, those are amazing. Prompto’s best at sucking cock, though. There’s no hesitation as he lifts his head up, his lips curling around the leaking tip of Noct’s cock, suckling it into his mouth. His tongue swirls, dipping into the slit, working the sensitive underside as Noct thrusts his hips forward, fucking into his mouth. He’s long given up on being careful when Prompto’s taking his cock—Prompto loves choking on it, loves being full here, too, and his eyes are wild and needy as they find an awkward rhythm.

 

It’s all Noctis setting the pace, because Prompto’s pinned to the bed, pinned under the weight of Noctis straddling his shoulders. He’s got one hand braced back against Prompto’s belly for balance, too, holding him steady, the other hand tangled in his hair, encouraging. Prompto’s throat is hot and clenching around the head of his erection when Noct rocks forward, and he’s making hot, choking sounds that just make Noct harder, make him roll his hips and _moan._

 

Maybe a king should have self-control. That thought is somewhere in Noct’s mind, but then he looks down, and Prompto’s eyes are watering, tears streaking from the corner of his eyes and sliding down his flushed cheeks. His lips are wrapped wide around Noct’s cock, taking him in all the way to the hilt, chin slick with saliva and precome as it pools and drips down. His hands are twitching, and Noct knows that Prompto wants to touch, that he wants to hold on for dear life.

 

Noct always _does_ have a soft spot for Prompto, even like this.

 

“You—fuck, you can touch,” Noctis gasps out, and that’s all it takes for Prompto’s hands to lift. He’s suddenly gripping at Noct’s ass, spreading his cheeks, a finger probing against his entrance. Noctis hisses when Prompto works a finger inside, crooking it just right, because that’s _cheating,_ but it’s all it takes. He’s suddenly slamming his hips forward, fucking all the way into Prompto’s mouth, coming with a burst of white pleasure and so much heat, exploding down Prompto’s throat.

 

Prompto sputters and chokes on it, but he doesn’t stop, lets Noct fuck his throat until he’s overstimulated, too sensitive, pulling away desperately. It’s messy, displaced saliva and come trickling from Prompto’s swollen lips, joining the mess on his face, his eyes all glazed over and needy.

 

“S’good,” Noctis gasps out, settling back again, putting his weight on Prompto’s chest, as his wet cock softens between them. Prompto’s gasping for breath, blissed out, lost in the role of being submissive, of letting Noctis use him for his pleasure. He tries to say something, anything, but it comes out a jumbled mess.

 

And, he’s still so achingly hard. Noct slowly slides off Prompto’s body, and his fingers run a soft, delicate line down his chest – pausing to tease and tug at erect nipples – fluttering over Prompto’s ribs, tracing the lines of his abdomen. His cock’s still heated and flushed, still plugged with the sound, and Noct’s _proud,_ a strange heat flaring in his chest, at just how well he’s done.

 

“You wanna come now?” Noct murmurs, as if that’s a fucking question, and the fire in Prompto’s eyes is enough to have his cock twitching weakly against his wet belly again. Noct doesn’t even wait for the nod, before he’s curling his fingers around Prompto’s erection again, stroking rough and heavy.

 

It doesn’t take long. Prompto’s too worked up.

 

Three strokes, and he’s making the most desperate sounds Noct’s ever heard, his cock throbbing, he’s so close. The fourth stroke, Noct’s fingers close around the tip of the sound. He draws it out, slow and steady, and Prompto lets out a strangled cry in response, as the metal rod eases out of his cock, inch by inch. The head is swollen, his slit gaping and puffy, and Noct’s fingers tease over it when he sets the sound aside.

 

“S’too much, Noct, _fuck,_ please, _please—”_ Prompto’s sobbing, when Noctis curls his fingers around his cock again, stroking rough and heavy, base to tip, swiping over his hypersensitive slit on every upstroke. The plug’s still nudging against his prostate, pushing him closer, faster.

 

When Noct’s free hand teases the base of the toy, pushing it in just a bit deeper, Prompto screams, and suddenly he’s coming, hot and wet and messy. It spurts all over Noct’s fingers, all over Prompto’s belly, coating him in heavy strands all the way up to his chest. It’s dirty, there’s _so much_ of it, and it’s so fucking hot. Prompto whines and gasps and Noctis doesn’t stop jerking him until Prompto’s squirming, desperately trying to escape, one hand finally gripping rough at Noct’s arm, trying to tug him away.

 

Slowly, Noct settles back. He pulls his hands from Prompto’s softening cock, running it through a thick, cooling pool of come that’s coating his abdomen. Prompto’s so overworked, twitching and gasping even from the light touch to his belly. His head’s tipped back, eyes squeezed shut, whole body trembling.

 

“You okay?” Noct asks, after a few moments of silence tick between them, as he slowly comes back to himself, slipping from that dominant, _kingly_ role, back into being just Noctis. Prompto doesn’t reply, not at first, though he offers a weak little nod of his head. He’s not entirely okay, Noct realizes that almost _instantly,_ and he’s frowning, shifting modes yet again.

 

“I’m gonna take the plug out,” Noct murmurs, and Prompto whines and hisses in response, but he lifts his hips, a little weakly, as Noct slowly, steadily, eases the toy out. His ass is swollen and gaping when Noct eases it out, and it’s got to be painful. There’s a pang of regret, of _fear_ that he’s gone too far, but fuck, they’d both wanted it, and badly.

 

The toy gets tossed aside, as Noct carefully rearranges them. He’ll clean up later. There’s lube all over the sheets and smeared across the duvet. The sound will need to be sterilized, and the plug cleaned up, and Prompto’s absolutely covered in sweat and sex. That’s not the immediate issue, though. Right now, Noct’s getting Prompto tucked under the blankets, curling up next to him and reaching over to the water bottle he’d had the sense to grab when they’d started this.

 

Prompto’s trembling a little, slowly coming back to himself as Noct gathers him up in his arms, pulling him close to cradle against his chest. He’s awkwardly got one arm curled around him, the other reaching around to uncap the bottle.

 

“Here. Drink. It’ll help,” Noct’s voice is low, but Prompto lifts his head, eyes bleary and red and still wet with tears as he curls a shaky hand around the bottle. Noctis holds on, helps steady him, and the water helps, as Prompto takes a few harsh gulps, clearing his sore, wrecked throat some.

 

“… ‘m fine,” Prompto mumbles, his voice harsh and ruined, as he turns his head again, pressing his face into Noct’s chest. “… sorry, Noct, fuck, I—”

 

“Don’t apologize,” Noctis cuts in, immediately, before Prompto can feel bad. “That was a lot. You did good, Prom, fuck you’re _amazing,_ you know that?”

 

Prompto’s still shaking in his arms, but he laughs weakly, and there’s affection in the sound. He’s shifting a little, enough to get his arms wrapped tightly around Noct in return, and even though Noct can feel the hot tears between them, pressing wet against his chest, Prompto’s lips are on his skin, too, and they’re curling up into a tiny little tentative smile.

 

“… it was good, Noct,” Prompto says, quietly, slowly. “… I just… stay with me?”

 

“Duh,” Noct replies, immediately, then soften his voice. “Prom. I’m not going anywhere. I love you, remember?”

 

Noct knows Prompto well. He knows that it’s a lot, that sometimes, Prompto still struggles after they’re done. In the middle of it, Prompto loves being used, dominated. After it’s over? There’s insecurities, maybe ones that they need to work through, at some point. For now, though? Noctis loves taking care of Prompto, and he loves being here after, easing him back into himself with kisses pressed into the top of his head, with strong arms pulling him against his chest, holding him close.

 

“Love you, Noct,” Prompto says, quietly, after a few moments of silence tick between them. “… I know you hate it, but… talk to me?”

 

So, Noctis talks. He rambles on about how they’ve made it here, on how somehow, they’ve come all this way, from being awkward teenagers, hopelessly in love, to a King and his Consort. They’ve got this little place carved out from them. The citadel is huge and imposing, and Noct’s a bit terrified of his role, of that throne he sits on. But when he’s behind closed doors, he’s simply Prompto’s king, and he’s _happy._

 

“Fuck, I’m so happy, Prom,” Noct laughs, shaking his head, and he’s absolutely flushing, but he presses another kiss into Prompto’s forehead. His beard’s scruffy against Prompto’s skin, and it makes them both laugh a little, as Prompto finally lifts his head. His nose wrinkles and his freckles stand out stark on his cheeks, and he looks perfect, finally coming back to himself, finally slipping out of the subspace he’d been caught up in.

 

“I finally made you happy, huh? Only took you sticking a metal rod in my dick,” Prompto teases, tipping his head to the side, bangs falling messy over his face. “You have weird kinks, Noct.”

 

“They’re your kinks, too,” Noctis points out, rolling his eyes. “Didn’t see you losing your hard on.”

 

“ _You’re_ my kink,” Prompto replies, and then he groans, flushing and burying his face back in Noct’s chest. “… fuck, that was so damn cheesy, huh? Kill me.”

 

“We’ll be cheesy and terrible together,” Noct replies, smiling and tightening his arms around Prompto again, dragging him down now, to curl together under the blankets, making even more of a mess, but what the hell does it matter? He’s the chosen king, and he’ll sleep in filth if he wants to. “Important thing is that we’re _together.”_

 

“I take it back. You’re worse than I am,” Prompto replies, but he’s smiling, and snuggling closer, and even though he winces when he shifts too much, all split open and worn thin from their play, he’s still exuding happiness, and Noct can tell. “… whatever. Love you, your majesty.”

 

Noctis simply smiles. “Dork. Love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to my fellow ffxv dumpster fire friends for encouraging the hell that is this fic. <3 (you know who you are.)  
> thanks for reading my shameless smut. i didn't proofread this so hopefully noct didn't end up losing his pants like 3 times.  
> kudos/comments appreciated!  
> as always, twitter @thatdest/ tumblr @destatree.


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